Take What You Can
by saphirefox-irl
Summary: Chapter 5 is up. Jack before the films. Major angst. DARK.
1. From The Sky

Obviously I don't own these characters.

I wrote this last night while I couldn't sleep and also couldn't see the page. It could have been a stand alone but I decided to use it as the first chapter of a Jack fic set before the films (even though it's not terribly connected to the rest of the story). The next chapter will involve the mutiny and will deffinatly be M. Hopefully I'll write it soon but I am supposed to be studying at the moment.

The backstory I made up for this is that Jack's mother was a prostitute and abandoned him when he was very young. It's not very important but just in case anyone is confused and thinks he's _actually _supposed to have fallen out of the sky.

Sorry for any historical inaccuracies.

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Bill swore.

The barrel of the musket was aimed straight at his face.

"Don't you reach for that sword," the red coat instructed.

The teenager swore again, creatively.

"You'll be loosing a hand theif. And if you're a pirate as well, which I don't doubth, it'll be the gallows. They can leave you hanging there for the crows to pick out your eyes for all I care. Scum like you - " His words were cut off as he fell heavily and abruptly to land in an untidy heap. A roof-tile bouncd off his head and smashed on the cobblestones.

Slightly stunned himself at his good fortune Bill looked up.

Perched on the roof of the nearest shop was a waif-like child with an unruly mass of dark hair.

"Thanks," he managed.

"Don't like soldiers. They..." The boy didn't finish his sentence.

"Do you want to come down here?" Bill asked.

He looked skittish and afraid, as though at any second he might dart away.

"I won't hurt you. I promise."

He considered a moment, nervously. Then he must have decided that the unknown young man was trustworthy because - apparently without effort - he scrambled down.

Bill guessed his age at about eight, though with his tiny frame he could easily have been half that. He was barefoot and wore an assortment of filthy rags that may or may not have once been clothes. Bird feathers were tied into his hair and his large chocolate-brown eyes were slightly sunken due to malnutrition. His tanned skin was farther darkened by dirt and far too many bruises.

"What's your name?"

"Jack. What's yours?"

"Bill Turner. Where are your parents Jack?"

"I don't got any. I never did." He said it almost proudly.

"So where did you come from then?"

He laughed. "I fell outa' sky. Like a bird." A pause. "You really a pirate?"

Smilling and holding one finger to his lips Bill gave a conspiritorial wink.

The child clapped in delight.

"Would you like to see my ship?"

"Ok."

Carefully stepping on the unconsciouss soldier Bill led the way to the dock.

"You know, I think we need a cabin boy. I could talk to the captain if you'd like. We'll get you something to eat at least."


	2. Take What You Can

Thanks for the reviews! No, I haven't read that. Is it good? I'll look out for it.

I've got to warn everyone that this chapter is a lot darker than the last. It is possibly the most upleasant in the story. It involves violence and heavily impliedrape.

Ok, you've been warned so don't bother flaming me if you don't like it.

I'll try get the next chapter up as soon as I can.

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As he sat at his table plotting the course Jack could feel the Pearl moving beneath him. He wanted to sing and dance with joy but settled for another swig of rum instead. _His _ship. _His _Pearl. _His _freedom. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on his cabin door.

"Aye, come in!" he called, wondering absently who'd be wanting him at this hour.

The door remained closed. However the fist pounded twice more on the wood.

Slightly wary now Jack stood and pulled it open.

His first mate stood in the doorway, some more of the crew behind him.

"Well, what do you be wanting?"

Barbossa grinned, an unpleasant sight.

"Well Jack, me and the crew, we don't like the way ye do things."

Anger now, and some confusion, showed in his face. "If that be the case no one's forcing you to stay. We can turn back for Tortuga this night if you want. But I'm the Captain of this ship and I'll run her however I like."

"Now ya see, that's what we been hoping to rectify."

Sudden understanding flashed in brown eyes and Jack reached for his sword. But Barbossa had been expecting that and smashed the lantern he was carrying hard into his Captain's face. He was thrown backwards, stunned and bleeding heavily from a gash across his forehead, though thankfully the flame had gone out before he was hit. He was back on his feet in seconds, drawing his sword. Unfortunately about half a dozen of his crew were now inside the cabin.

A violent slash to the fore-arm caused him to loose his grip on his sword. A second later a strong blow to the head knocked him down once again. He tried to push himself back up but a sharp kick to the elbow caused him to fall on his face. They were all around kicking fast and mercilessly and he couldn't get away.

Jack didn't know how long the beating had gone on for when suddenly it stopped. Out of almost forgotten childhood instinct he'd tried to curl himself into a ball. A hand gripped his long hair and forced his head up. He was dragged out of the cabin and dropped on the deck. He lay on the dark boards, drawing ragged breaths watching the world spin.

Barbossa's face came into view, ghostly pale in the moonlight, staring down at him.

In his concussed state it took the young captain a moment to realise that he was leaning too close. However when rough fingers started to unbuckle his belt he tried again to fight back and push his first mate away. Instantly two pairs of hands had grabbed his arms and pinned them to the ground.

His trousers were ripped off. Jack realized he was afraid, terrified in a way he had not felt in a long time.

"Turn him over!"

He was spun round, his face cracking against the deck and staining it with blood.

Pushing himself up a few inches he could see his crew standing all around. Most of them were laughing. Bill wasn't, but there was a knife at his throat.

His crew were laughing at him.

But they weren't _his _crew anymore.

They'd betrayed him.

He wanted to shut his eyes and cover his ears.

But then he was screaming.


	3. Give Nothing Back

Not really Efia-an. Sorry.

I had ment for this chapter to be longer but I decided to split it in two. Sorry about the shortness but it'd have taken me ages to do the two bits together.

I'm going to put in another warning: this story is not nice. I'm no good at writting happy stuff.

I'll try update quickly.

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Morning dawned to find Captain Jack Sparrow bound by the wrists and hanging over the starboard side of his ship. His right shoulder had already dislocated from the strain.

The sea was a sparkling sapphire blue.

The spray was salty.

The sun was blinding and hot.

Blood was dripping into his eyes.

The world was red.

Every wave the Pearl crested sent a jolt of sharp pain through his arms.

The crew were laughing.

They threw something wet down on him.

He wanted to cut them to pieces.

He wanted them to burn in hell.

He didn't want to think about the pain.

They were coming up on a small island.

It hurt to breath with broken ribs.

The Pearl seemed to be flying over the ocean.

Blood loss was producing a sick shaky feeling.

"'Oy Jack!" someone shouted. And they were pulling on his rope, hauling him back up to the railing. He found that quite a large part of him would prefer to remain dangling.

They pulled him part way over then stopped. Barbossa leaned across to stare Jack in the face. He smiled that stinking, rotten toothed smile. Producing a pistol he loaded in a shot.

"Now I could just kill ya Jack. But I be feeling merciful today." He grinned. "Besides, I don't be wanting yer brains splattered all over _my _new ship." He tucked the weapon into the band of Jack's trousers and for a moment every muscle in the young captain's body tensed and he forgot how to breathe. "So I'll be letting ya do it yerself."

He turned and addressed someone Jack couldn't see. "And how about ye Bootstrap? Do ye want ta follow yer captain?"

A mumbled reply.

A laugh. "Didn't think so."

He couldn't blame Bill, knew he'd have done the same.

Suddenly the hold on his rope was released, returning him abruptly to his original position. The force pulled his left shoulder from its socket too. Little stars of pain flashed before his eyes. He looked up in time to see his former first mate swing his sword and sever the rope. Then he was plunged into the water.


	4. Surviving

Not sure if people want me to continue this story or not cause I didn't get any reviews for the last part. Not very happy with this part posted it anway.

The water was cold, shocking and disorientating. For a moment Jack didn't know which way was up and which was down. The salt was stinging his eyes and wounds, flooding into his nose and his mouth. That second of panic seemed to stretch itself out for an eternity before he forced his body to go limp and allowed the density of the water to carry him upwards.

His head broke the surface and the sun on the brilliant blue sea was almost blinding. He coughed up brine and treaded water with his legs. Though some of the crew still leaned over the railings to laugh at him The Black Pearl had already started to turn and sail away.

An overwhelming sense of confusion and betrayal filled him. They were his crew. He'd _thought_ they were his friends. And the Pearl was _his _ship.

A cold, tired feeling was seeping through him. He wanted to stop kicking, to close his eyes and sink back into the blue embrace of the sea. The pistol at his side seemed like a stone weighing him down. If only his hands weren't tied he could make use of it. No! That shot wasn't for him. It was for his former first mate. Even if it was the last thing he did he'd see it pierce Barbossa's heart.

That thought filled him with a sudden rush of energy and he started to swim towards the island. It was a fair distance away, especially with his arms bound, and the blood he was loosing was going to attract sharks. But he was going to make it. He had to survive if he was to see Barbossa dead. He swam harder.

The waves washed him onto the beach like a piece of driftwood. He tried to stand but couldn't get his feet under him. Too exhausted to move he collapsed on the wet sand.

Pain was the first thing of which Jack was aware upon returning to the waking world. He lay with his eyes closed, trying to take slow even breaths. For several minutes he didn't move. Then, forcing himself upright he stumbled into the dappled shade provided by a grove of palm trees.

The first thing to do was to get his shoulders back into their right positions. Dam. That was going to hurt. He wished he had some rum.

'_A nice big bottle, filled with that lovely drink. That's what I be needing' _he thought as warily he eyed a sturdy looking trunk. Positioning himself sideways to it he moved back a few steps. He bit his lip and ran at the tree.

He swore and yelled and cursed bloody murder. He'd gotten the angle wrong and only succeeded in causing himself a considerable amount of pain.

Lining himself up more carefully this time he ran again at the tree.

It wasn't until his fifth attempt that he managed to relocate the shoulder.

The second one though, he got in two tries.

Now he had to get untied.

It took him ten minutes to find a sharp enough rock and close to an hour of rubbing to saw through the rope.

Sitting on the sandy ground he examined his wrists. They were bruised and bleeding but free from that rope at least.

He starred out at vast expanse of blue ocean – trapping him on his tiny island.

'_Now what do I do?'_

Jack had been marooned for three days. Most of that time he'd spent exploring and searching for food. He'd never liked to sit still for long. But more than that, to be constantly busy with something kept him from remembering or thinking about what had happened. The frequent jolts of pain were not so obliging.

He'd just managed to crack open a coconut and drank the liquid inside thirstily. That was the biggest problem with this place. There was nothing to drink except the coconut milk and never enough of that. And it made him feel sick anyway.

For what must have been the thousand time he looked out across the sea, hoping that somehow, irrationally, he would see The Black Pearl returning for him. He froze.

There was a ship headed for the island.


	5. Out Of The Frying Pan

Thanks for the lovely reviews :)

Here's the next part.

Jack watched, from behind the cover of the palm trees, as the men from the ship arrived on the island.

Well, they weren't Royal Navy. By the look of them they might even have been pirates.

He wanted to run to them, to ask them to take him off this glorified sandbar. But Captain Jack Sparrow knew to wait for the opportune moment.

They were on the beach now. One of them was tapping a hollow tree. Now he was counting paces and bending down to brush away sand. He grabbed hold of something and pulled. A trap door appeared as if from no where and the men descended into it. A few moments latter they re-emerged carrying bottles of rum.

Jack was torn between pleasure at realising they were rum runners and annoyance at not having discovered their cache of alcohol. Altering his gait to what he hoped was a confident swagger he stepped out of his hiding place. "Ahoy there!"

Shocked, the rum runners spun around. "Who are you?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Who be you?"

A tall man who appeared to be the leader stepped forwards. Ignoring the young pirate's question he stated, "you don't look like much of a capt'n ta me."

Jack clenched his hands into tight fists when he felt them starting to shake. He'd hoped the extent of his injuries was not apparent.

"And where exactly is your ship?"

He forced a smile as he answered. "Well, I don't _exactly _know."

At the expectant look of the man before him he added, "There was a bit of a misunderstanding between meself and the crew. I don't suppose you could see your way towards providin' me with passage off of this lovely island?"

"Now why would I want ta do that?"

"I know how to sail a ship. I'd work on yours till we reached a port."

He laughed, a slightly malicious sound. "So your wanting rescue _and_ a job?"

"I wasn't asking for pay."

Another laugh. "Of course not. Still, I don't think that's why we'll be takin' you on board."

Somewhat uncertainly Jack followed the rum runners back to their ship. For several long moments he had been sure they were going to leave him behind, or perhaps just shoot him and be done. He wasn't entirely sure why he was being allowed on board and that made him cautious.

The tall man was heading below deck. "Sparrow, follow me."

This ship was smaller than the Pearl but as he descended the rickety steps Jack thought its inside seemed darker. He was led left and down a short corridor. He noted two more of the rum runners behind him.

"Well, in you go."

For a moment he failed to understand, his eyes still adjusted to the bright Caribbean sunlight. Then the rusted metal bars of the brig came into view.

"You know, maybe I should stay a while longer on that island. Have a little holiday…" Turning he found the way blocked by the two men who'd been following. Grabbing him by the shoulders they pushed him roughly into the cell. With a loud clanking sound the door was locked.


	6. Into A Cell

Hi. Sorry about the huge delay. I have lots of excuses but none that really acccount for taking several months to post a short chapter. I'm not sure when I'll have the next part up. There's only about 2 chapters left.

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Twenty minutes after Jack was locked in the cell a young sailor arrived and thrust a mug of water and a couple of slices of bread through the bars.

The young captain took them, taking a large swallow of the water. "Why are ye keeping me in here?" he asked after a moment when the sailor had not left.

"Yer a pirate."

Jack smiled. "And how do you be knowing that then?"

He gave an incredulous look, staring at his bandanna and ripped clothes. "Just look a' you."

Jack felt irrationally uncomfortable. He'd always been quite proud of his appearance. "Supposing I am a pirate... since when a' rum runners cared so much about the law?"

"The Cap'n wants the reward."

"Reward?"

"Forty Galleons for a pirate."

A few days passed. Jack was reasonably well fed but growing increasingly restless. He'd taken to pacing his cell and ratteling the bars while plotting increasingly insane escape plans. A few of these he'd actually attempted. None had yet come close to suceeding.

He was trying to lasoe his pistol (hanging on a hook on the far wall) with a rope made from his belt and several strips of fabric when the captain decended from the deck. Following a short distance behind were two officers of the royal navy.

"What's your name Pirate?" demanded the older of the uniformed men.

"Jack."

"Jack?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow o' The Black Pearl," he replied, forcing a casual, confident stance.

"Captain?" He turned to the rum runner. "That will be sixty Galleons then." He nodded, pleased. "Unlock the cell then."

A key turned and the door creaked slowly open. The bars were gone. Jack wanted to run out of the cell, up the stairs, to jump over the side of the ship and never look back. But there were three armed men standing in the way. One of the officers locked shackles on his wrists.

"Is that weapon his?" the other enquired of the rum runner.

After a moment's concideration he nodded.

He lifted it off the hook. "We'll be taking it for evidence then."

One of the officers moved to stand behind Jack, pressing the barrel of his musket into his back. They walked him up to the deck and then across a gangplank to the other ship.


	7. Blood

I'm sorry this update took so long. I really did try to post this chapter sooner but I've been really busy and I left the paper version of most of this at my parent's house (where I don't live) by mistake.

Thanks for the reviews Hawk's Soul, goodnightmysweetprince, CaptainJackSparrow16, Roy-Fan-33 and A Sparrow's Soul.

There are three options for how I'm going to continue this story- and I'd like to know which people would prefer. I could end this fic here and write a sequel. I could write one more chapter and then possibly a sequel. I could just carry it on under the same title.

Another warning: there's a lot of violence in this chapter, I'd say it's the second worst in the fic but some people might feel this is the worst.

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3 months.

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Chains around his wrists. Chains cutting into flesh. Chains holding him up, so his could almost touch the floor. They clanked when the men came, when he tried to flinch away. From the fists and the whips and the knives... And then there was blood. Dripping... Dripping down to the filthy salt water that flooded the cell. Staining it a darker brown. Each heave of the ship sent it rushing past heavy iron bars.

_'If I was water, I could flow through the bars.'_

Cold water, swirling in the dark. It was better when it was dark. Fire burns. Intense agony. Struggling to pull away. Screaming. Then sticking, pulling, tearing. Then just a sting, throbbing, burning again if you move. And the chains move and clank. And breathing's shallow and rapid. Catching. Footsteps. No. No. No...

_'Don't come today. Go away, go away. Don't come today.'_

Footsteps.

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The navy captain gave a snort of distaste as the dirty seawater sloshed over the top of his boots. "Open it up," he commanded.

With the turn of a key the cell door swung wide.

The captain entered, followed a few seconds latter by two sailors.

"Pirate."

A moment passed before Jack raised his head, effort clear even in that small movement. Chocolate brown eyes stared outwards, drifting in and out of focus.

"We have reached our port pirate. You are to be hanged." Then to the sailors, "take him down." Looking with mild revulsion at the numerous gashes, bruises and burns he added, "and put a shirt on him."

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The lock on the shackles was rusted and only came open with difficulty. When finally it gave Jack fell forward into the dirty water. It rushed into his mouth and nose and he wondered if he would drown. Then he felt something, just beneath his right hand. A sharp piece of metal. Someone grabbed his hair and started to pull him from the water. Quickly he closed his fingers around the fragment of metal.

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The two soldiers who stood to either side of Jack, leading him to the gallows, were more to keep upright than to keep him from escaping. The noose was tightened around his neck. He stood, swaying slightly, as the charges were read. The sun was shining on the waves. His hands were chained in front of him. He still gripped the piece of metal tightly.

"...on this day..."

"...hung by the neck until dead..."

"...may God have mercy..."

The ground fell out from under him. The rope pulled taunt. But his neck didn't break. He hadn't weighed enough. But now he was slowly strangling. He brought his arms up, fumbled at the rope and managed to grab it. The executioner was moving below the gallows to pull on his feet, as was his duty when the neck didn't snap. Jack started to cut through the rope. The executioner grabbed him and began tugging. The noose was tightening. He tried to cut faster. The edges of the world were turning black. Cutting. Pulling. The rope broke. He fell on top of the executioner, knocking them both to the ground.

Soldier were running forwards, muskets raised. Jack pulled the dazed executioner's knife from his belt and held it to his troath. The soldiers stopped, hesitated. He struggled to get to his feet, keeping a tight grip on the knife. "I..." It was hard to speak with the constriction around his neck. He took a breath, tried again. "I... want me gun."

The soldiers conferred for several moments. Finally, the highest ranking of the group, told Jack - very slowly and with forced calm - that they were getting it. A minute passed. A young soldier came running with the pistol. He stopped several meters from the pirate. "Put it... in... the band of... me trousers." Nervously the soldier moved closer and tucked the gun into the waistband of his ragged trousers. Jack fought the urge to flinch. "Now go... back." He did as he was told.

They were near the sea, near the docks. Careful not to turn his back to the soldiers or move the blade from the executioner's throat, he stumbled backwards towards the water.

There was a small sailboat, maybe eight feet long, tied to a buoy. It was a fair distance out. He moved closer to the edge of the dock. When he no longer felt rough wooden boards beneath his heels - but instead empty space - Jack stopped.

"He's nowhere to go," one soldier called out.

He took a deep breath. Then, pushing his hostage away, he fell backwards into the blue water.

A sudden shock of cold. Sinking down. Like falling asleep.

_It's not time to sleep yet._

He kicked towards the surface. Bright sun. He struggled to breath. Suddenly shots fired into the water. He dived under again and started to swim towards the boat. He couldn't breath, had to come up again. Another shot. It caught him on the shoulder. When he dived down trails of red spread out in the water. It was so hard to swim. Everything hurt. But he could see the shadow of the boat. He couldn't breath. A few more feet. He surfaced, grabbed hold of the thin wooded hull. There were more gunshots but over this range the soldier's ability to aim accurately would be virtually non-existent. He struggled for a moment or two before pulling himself into the boat. Then Jack untied the line tethering the small vessel to the buoy, tightened the sail and took hold of the tiller.

They wouldn't catch him. The only ship nearby, the only he had been brought in on, would take too long to get ready to make way. He sat back, drawing shallow breaths through the noose, and stared upwards at the blue Caribbean sky.


	8. Anna

Thanks for the great review A Sparrow's Soul. That's got to be one of the longest I've ever gotten! As requested Roy-Fan-33 I'm continuing this as one long story. It's easier for me too. Thanks for the review goodnightmysweetprince. I'll try watch for emotions being off. (I have trouble with emotions in real life and sometimes that shows up in stuff I write.)

This chapter is finally a bit nicer to Jack and one of the other characters comes into the story here.

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There was a chill on the night air and the darkened streets were empty but for one man, a pirate.

Slowly he stumbled down the road, splashing through puddles without even noticing them. He was limping, swaying alarmingly so that at any moment it seemed he might fall.

Somewhere not too far away a door slammed, a dog howled and a woman screamed. He heard none of it. His eyes were red, as though from crying, and he stared straight ahead into the blackness of the night. Absentmindedly he was humming a tune. He stopped walking, stood unsteadily before a small house. He hesitated a moment. Then slowly he raised his hands, both as thick rope held them together, and knocked twice on the wooden door. A moment passed.

Suddenly the door was gone and in its place stood a woman. Her complexion was dark, her face pretty but not carefree. She wore a sword on her hip. She opened her mouth, though whether in shock or to speak could not be said for at the same time as she did, the man collapsed where he stood.

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Anna-maria swore, barely able to process what she was seeing, as, crouching down, she pulled a knife from her boot and began to cut away the rough noose that encircled her friends neck.

"Jack?"

She couldn't believe the state he was in. His face was a mass of cuts and bruises. His clothes were ragged and filthy. And he was so thin! It seemed impossible that he was even alive, never mind that he'd been standing a few moments before.

His blackened eyes fluttered open. "Captain Jack Anna, that's Captain Jack."

She didn't respond to his words. His voice shocked her. It sounded so weak, and hoarse as though damaged. He struggled to get to his feet. Wincing, he succeeded. He cocked his head to one side and grinned lopsidedly. But the smile was gone when a second latter his right leg buckled.

Unable to put out his tied hands to break his fall, he hit the stone floor face first, splitting his lip and re-opening a gash above his left eyebrow. Instantly she was at his side, pulling him up again and helping him over to sit on her bed. "Who did this to you?"

"Barbossa."

"Your first mate?"

He didn't answer, slumped sideways on the mattress. The movement caused clumps of his blood-matted hair to fall away from his face. Catching sight of one of his ears Anna-maria gasped; it looked like all the rings he wore had been ripped out. Instinctively she reached her hand out towards the injury. Her finger tips made contact with the torn flesh and he flinched sharply away.

Worry lined the woman's face. She'd never seen Jack flinch before, not from anything.

"Jack what happened?"

"Nothing love."

Alright, she had to be patient. She wouldn't push him.

"You're going to have to strip."

"What, so soon?"

She'd have slapped him for that comment if the look in his eyes hadn't betrayed his jovial tone of voice. He was terrified.

"I need to see how bad your injuries are."

"Love to oblige but..." He held out his hands.

She untied the rope. Still he hesitated.

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"I already've told you, nothing." Wincing he pulled off the top.

Anna-maria swore, looked away and repeated the expletative. "Oh Jack..." She wanted to hug him, to hold him like a child and tell him everything would be ok. Every inch of skin was covered by wounds or bruising, many of the over prominent bones beneath broken.

Pushing away her shock the piratess stood and retrieved a bottle of rum.

"You read my mind."

"Don't drink it all," she cautioned while handing it over. "I'll need some to clean your wounds."

"Waste of good rum that'd be."

She took the bottle off him before he could finish it and poured some onto a cloth.

She cleaned his face first. It only seemed to make the bruises more obvious. The cut on his forehead was still bleeding so she ripped a strip off the bed-sheet and tied it round his head as a bandage.

"You're going to have to get me new sheets."

"Can think of better circumstances ye could be saying that in."

"Shut up Jack," she said, not unkindly as she continued to clean and bandage wounds.

"I'd be calling the doctor right now, if I wasn't sure he'd be too drunk to remember his trade." She received no reply. "Please Jack; tell me what's happened to you."

"I can't Anna..." He wouldn't look at her. Not just now, ok?"


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